Chapter 200 Travels in Macragge (End)

+That's why I think you're becoming dull from exertion, Malcador.

+The lifestyle of the Imperial Chancellor... is determined by the work the Emperor brings to..., the craftsmen. +The Prime Minister's voice came intermittently. Even though the two people talking on the phone were both peak psychic users that humans could reach, the conversation across half the galaxy was still quite challenging.

They are not emperors. They can follow the spiritual channel built by Morse, directly throw out a clone that is almost like a normal person countless light years away, and have a harmonious and intimate conversation with his heir - Morse He has already begun to think about how to call the Lord of Mankind to Macragge, and use his victorious glory to completely hook Robert Guilliman's heart to the huge warship of the Human Empire.

+ Oh, maybe that sounds rude, but the adjective 'boring' applies to you, not your life. +Morse corrected Malcador, +I just told you in detail how Perturabo successfully integrated an entire star cluster into his Olympian political system, but you didn't even say a word of praise. . +

Malcador let out a deep sigh.

+The Ministry of Finance has sent more than ten... briefings on tax... How should I praise you...? +

Morse shook his head slightly, making his behavior look like a small gesture that an ordinary passerby would make on the street, rather than a seriously ill patient talking to himself about a mental disorder.

+I will take the tax issue to Perturabo, Chancellor. +

He stepped away from the door of Macragge's public bathroom.

During his half-minute pause, he had regretfully realized that he probably shouldn't have committed the crime of laziness when fabricating his body, so that he couldn't enter the bathroom now.

Within thirty meters of the bathroom, Morse found a tavern. Looking at the boiling broth in the open-air stove and the decorations such as figs, sausages, cheeses, and vegetables carefully painted by the owner on the simple walls, he decided on This is a long-lost midnight snack. He happened to not need a high-end venue with an elegant fountain and a small garden.

Low tables and chairs are arranged outside the bar. Sitting here, you can see how the deep night sharpens the edges of the laurel crown branches surrounding the forehead of the golden statue outside the Senate. Inside the windows of several large public places in Macragge The bright yellow lights flickered steadily behind the large residential area.

Morse ordered wine, stew, and porridge in the native language and even in an accent that blended well with the citizens of Macragge.

The style of his clothes was similar to Macragge culture. The shopkeeper had no doubt that he came from the depths of the galaxy. He just regarded him as a strange local citizen and asked him if he wanted to come indoors and lie down as if he were at home. Dine on a bench. Morse rebuffed him with a smile.

+What's your midnight snack today, Prime Minister? + Morse asked.

+ Terra It's lunch time. +

+What's your lunch today? +

+I haven't had time for breakfast yet, Artisan. +Makado replied. +The Legal Department is putting more procedural issues above the problem itself. According to the 170th set of interim rules revised this year, more than one-tenth of our fiscal year report submission procedures themselves do not comply with the process specifications. Legal Affairs The ministry proposed that this part of the report should be returned in full, and the relevant officials should be removed from their posts or be kept pending review. +

+Oh, then you go to work. + Morse stirred his oatmeal with a spoon. The smell of cereals was close to him, and the temperature climbed into his palms wrapped in black cloth along with the rising heat. He suddenly missed the memory of his skin becoming warm and moist when it came into contact with the warm pottery bowl, although these details in life were long gone from him.

But when he thought that Malcador hadn't had breakfast, these sentiments immediately disappeared.

Different from the silence of Olympia where only the wind blows through the trees outside the city at night, and also different from the streets of Inwit that are completely filled with fierce cold winds, Macragge's night has become a particularly intuitive symbol of its current prosperous development. evidence.

Local merchants from both Macragge and beyond gathered in the city for a night of what could be called a small celebratory feast before spices, silks, produce, and many other precious commodities were traded in the markets the next day.

After leaving the space port, travelers brought by short-distance navigation technology also came to the long streets of the city in search of food, clothing, shelter, and nightly entertainment.

In restaurants, after people drank until they were tipsy amid the aroma of beans and meat dishes, they unsurprisingly enjoyed the worldly pleasure of discussing philosophy and politics.

Under the influence of some mysterious communication principles that are difficult to explain, the decisions of the leader of a certain political system can often be partially known to the people and trigger many extended discussions, not to mention Macragge's relaxed discussion atmosphere. It provides excellent soil for general discussions among citizens, and Robert Guilliman and Conor Guilliman simply announced the direction of reforms in the past month to win the support of the people.

Before he finished half of the bowl of porridge, Morse had already heard the soldiers at the table next to him, who were on vacation today, starting to discuss the two newly adjusted rules of procedure of the Senate: passing by a two-thirds vote and passing by an absolute majority. Various imaginative speculations, such as whether exactly one-third of the five hundred "nobles above" disagreed with Conor Guilliman, the Archon whose face was on the other side of Macragge's coin Jialan's disappearance during this reform is a clear indication of the friction between the two parties.

"You must have guessed wrong this time, Manicino," the craftsman heard one of the soldiers say, "my brother-in-law's father happened to be guarding the senate that day, and he saw with his own eyes the two consuls standing up and shaking hands with each other. "

"I can testify," another soldier laughed, leaning against the horseshoe sign at the door of the tavern, hot water in a clay cup, "that the husband of my sister's friend's sister knew a janitor in the council chamber."

"Come on, friends, I will go back tonight and ask Gloria himself if he has shaken hands with Conor Guilliman." Manichino, a tall soldier, grinned, "I dare say they are definitely not on the same ship. Sailors. I'll buy you another twenty dinars."

"You kid," a veteran hammered Manichino on the shoulder, "are you buying us drinks with the money you won from us?"

Morse listened for a moment as the porridge and stew passed through the curved spoons and disappeared into his mouth. He was not sure whether the delicious taste he simulated was really what these dishes should taste like, and how much of it was born from his unintentional beautification.

At this time, the topic of this group of soldiers has already turned to whether the civil war on the next planet came from the secret instigation of the Senate. It is ridiculous, but it also proves how peaceful Macragge's reform period was, so that this Qunma Kurag soldiers ran out of the military camp when they had time to eat barbecue and drink wine on the street.

He stood up with the wine glass in hand and walked to the table of the soldiers.

"Friends of Macragge," Morse said, speaking in a tone that was thick for Macragge - well, Nucerian, "I am here to travel. To hear you speak like this , Is Macragge’s recent government unstable? My brother told me that he wants to come here and do trade with Macragge. I haven’t heard that the situation here is still suitable for trade.”

Several soldiers looked at each other and looked at the gold pattern on the edge of Morse's black robe.

"Does anything look wrong to me?" Morse maintained his tone, pretending to be a little alert. "This is a place where we can discuss Macragge's Archons, right? They don't have their own secret surveillance force, do they?"

Manichino was the first to answer for Morse. "Of course not, friends from outside. Macragge welcomes merchants. The Archon's new policy has separate care for outsiders. It is posted on the notice board at the door. If you come to settle here, as long as you can prove your status, the Senate will also distribute the excess land to you. "

"Thank you, soldier." Morse bowed slightly like a true mortal and expressed his gratitude to the soldiers. "I'll ask around again."

Morse drank the two sips of sweet wine remaining at the bottom of the glass, gently placed the glass back on the table, turned and walked into the street.

The bright lights of the night still fell on his black robe, and the hustle and bustle of the market had not yet returned to calm, so he could not be said to have entered the vast night.

+Are you still listening, Malcador? +he asked.

+Not here. +The Prime Minister replied gently, his tone sounded like he had finally resolved the dispute with the Ministry of Justice, +Any questions, craftsman? +

+No more, Prime Minister. Good night. +

——

Steam evaporates slowly in the bathroom, blurring the exquisite murals and various ornate patterns inlaid with gold and silver on the walls. Gold and silver products of incalculable value and extremely exquisite animal bone carvings are placed on the obsidian square low tables around this small private bath, with a certain type of deep glazed blue that has been genetically selected. The bouquets complement each other. The warm spring water has become a simpler enjoyment for the Primarch, who is not easily contaminated by dirt.

Robert Guilliman takes on the role of mentor in the bathhouse. Finding a reasonable opportunity to talk to his brothers who are older than him is not always possible, let alone one of his three brothers named Rogal Dorn.

The white-haired original body seemed to never change his outspoken character like ice and stone. Robert admired his rationality very much, but sometimes, Robert had to admit that it was more beneficial to live with Perturabo. Stabilize your mental state at a relatively healthy level.

Guilliman stood up from the water, stepped onto the white stone steps, stepped on the carpet beside the bath and grabbed a towel to cover himself. He turned around and invited his brothers in the pool to follow him.

"We can go to the cooled room and rest for a while. Then we go to the heated pool, apply some essential oils and bathe again."

"In Olympia, we also have some public bathrooms," Perturabo said, "but this is the first time in decades that I treat bathing so formally."

Robert shook his head: "We will discuss many things here. The Senate will discuss in the bathroom which side's attendant will present the next day's proposal."

"People cannot fight each other in the bathroom, and the efficiency of hand-to-hand combat is always far lower than that of weapons." Perturabo answered, taking his towel and wrapping it around his waist. "Though we Primarchs, even with empty hands, are an irresistible threat to mortals."

"Exactly. Except for a few baths in my childhood, I never shared a bath with others. For me, today is also the first time in several years that I have shared a bath." Robert raised his gold-leaf laurel wreath with his fingers. , pressed between the damp hair covered with water vapor.

"It seems that we are all doing this for the first time." Angron said, and he threw the towel, and the soft white cloth just happened to be wrapped under the scarlet scar on his waist.

Robert waited for the white-haired Primarch, whose face was rarely ruddy after being soaked in the hot water, to walk out of the bath. Suddenly, he was worried for a moment whether his brother who claimed to be from the ice and snow world would feel dizzy due to the long hot water bath. He immediately wiped away the distracting thoughts and firmly let his reason help him choose to fully trust the physique of the gene Primarch.

Rogal Dorn tied the towel according to the brothers' example, and tightened the towel as seriously as if he was making a handicraft.

"Yes." He said.

Several Primarchs sat on the benches around the bath in the warm air, slightly dissipating the heat from their bodies.

There were some prepared cool fruits on the small dining table. Perturabo chose the plate of green grapes and felt the juice fall into his throat, silently moistening the root of his tongue and esophagus. He spit out the grape seeds and threw them into the empty plate.

Guilliman began, "Long ago, the nobles of Macragge threw bones or shells on the ground when dining, waiting for the servants to clean up afterwards. This habit was corrected and abolished before I landed here."

"This is not an easy task." Perturabo said, "It is not serious enough to legislate, and it is difficult to correct."

"When the Archon consciously reduced the number of banquets and took the lead in sitting upright, we proved that the stomachs of the Macragge people were not born to eat half-lying down, or to eat more food by repeatedly vomiting."

"You are proud of this, Robert."

Robert Guilliman smiled modestly: "This is both the nobility of the ruler and the self-repetition of culture and the inevitability caused by historical development. Every reform can only succeed when the reform is truly needed."

"To see what people really need." Angron whispered, "To see their hearts."

Perturabo spoke between eating grapes. "Of course," he said, "You are very popular among the people, Robert. Many people hope that you will become the next consul."

Robert was not happy about this.

"I need to know whether the expedition will allow me to serve as the consul. If I cannot fulfill my duties as a consul, then," he paused, "I will not serve as the consul of Macragge."

Perturabo's eyes swept over the laurel wreath on Robert's head. He did not wear the green leaf crown today, but a golden crown replaced it. The Iron Lord realized that this was an identification card of the Senate Council, and was not sure whether this was some kind of final commemoration.

"Don't worry too early, Robert." Perturabo smiled, "Have a good rest tomorrow, and your army will be reviewed in front of you the day after tomorrow."

He put down the empty plate with only grape seeds left: "I want to know more now, what is the essential oil application?"